The Faerie's Honeymoon (4 page)

Liking this, Belle’s leg hooked boldly around his hip. The part of her this spread dampened his trousers.

Duvall grunted, lifted, walking her blindly toward the bed. Belle wasn’t making his progress easy. She drew one hand around to his front, driving it down his abdomen and into his pants. He gasped for air as her fingers bumped the swollen crest of his penis, pulling in his stomach so she could reach. When that didn’t give her sufficient room, he cheated, popping the fastening on his waistband with a mental spell.

“Zipper,” she urged, and he undid that magically too.

Her fingers wrapped his thick shaft and pulled.

Oh God
, he thought, a moan the only sound that made it through his throat. Her touch felt so good with his batteries all filled up. More intense. More crazily exciting. She was giving him a slow hand job as they kissed, both long legs locked around his hips.

He had no idea where they were standing. Near the bed? Far? Lost in her, he caressed her bootylicious bottom, the most feminine part of her. Squeezing her was a joy, feeling her wriggle with arousal as he pushed the tips of his fingers toward where her cream ran out. He had to rub the lubrication between those sleek furrows, had to feel how hot and ready she was. His spine shuddered with pleasure, every fiber of his being longing to maraud her. He’d be her Pan in this bower, the Zeus to her nubile nymph.

Then the full expanse of his back started tingling.

The sensation wasn’t subtle, more like a limb had fallen asleep and was recovering its circulation in far too short a span. Prickles ran in fiery waves through his waking nerves, painful in their strength.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten this would happen. He’d been in Resurrection at least an hour, more than long enough for the inevitable to have occurred to him.

His wings were manifesting again.

Usually, faeries kept them folded up like puzzles beneath their clothes, so tight and flat no one guessed they were there. They didn’t flaunt this part of themselves, as a rule. At that moment, he feared he didn’t have a choice. He was recharged and wrought up to boot. Arousal of any sort stirred up his kind’s nature, including anxiety and love, on top of which his wings hadn’t had the chance to open in a while. They never did in the mundane world.

The idea that they were opening now filled him with panic.

If Belle had been unnerved by seeing him magick money or float her across the car, how much more would this freak her out? Hell, dropping his glamour at the station had rocked her back on her heels. Faerie wings weren’t made of gossamer, nor were they cute in size. Duvall’s were taller than he was when they unfurled, like a multi-colored dragonfly on steroids. He
couldn’t
expose them to her.

They were his true nakedness.

He had about thirty seconds to head off disaster.

He drew back from her siren’s kiss and caught her eyes with his will. The way she looked back at him - dazzled, loving - momentarily stunned him.

Truth
, he reminded himself.
Stick to that and you’ll be fine
.

“I need you to enjoy this,” he said.

Belle broke into a laugh. “When have I ever not enjoyed this?”

“I’m serious. I need this to be perfect for you.” Her amusement receded as he slid her down his very aroused body, the silk she wore making this interesting. As his erection nudged up the front of her negligee, she felt what she’d done to him: how hard he was, how quick and ragged his breathing. “Turn around, Belle. Bend over the bed for me.”

“Sweetheart ...”

“Please,” he said, heading off her protest. “I know what it does to you when I take the upper hand.”

Her
breathing sped up the extra fraction that told him his words had struck their target.

“Turn,” he repeated, taking her by the arms to guide her.

The energy that danced out from his scapulae had begun to ripple yet more strongly when she glanced at him over her shoulder. Duvall fought the manifestation back, one heartbeat, two, the blindfold materializing in his hand almost before he’d decided to call for it.

Belle’s gaze widened when she saw what it was.

“Your eyes undo me,” he said, the words as rough as they were honest. “I can’t have you looking at me right now.”

Belle never refused him anything that really seemed to matter. She let him tie the black velvet around her head.

~

Duvall certainly was in a mood tonight, but maybe Belle was too. A tiny frisson ran through her as he gently tied the black velvet mask on her. This was a true blindfold: padded, snug, blocking every scrap of light in the room. She felt dizzy when he was done, partly from not being able to see, and partly from the unavoidable switches being vulnerable flipped in her. Belle had been disappointed a time or two in her life. Letting down her guards was a difficult thing, a powerful thing when she did it with him.

When he slid his hands down her sides to her waist, excitement welled from her.

“Two steps forward,” he said, guiding her from behind.

She took the steps and hit the high fussy bed that had sent her scampering to the bathroom. The coverlet felt like quilted silk stuffed with down. The mattresses, however many there were, were tall enough that she had to stretch on tiptoe to bend in half. The position caused her negligee to hike up, exposing her bottom.

Not just her bottom either. Belle was pretty sure her prince could see her sex glistening.

The air rustled strangely. Duvall released a sound like he was in pain. Though she couldn’t see, she turned her head to him.

“That’s very pretty,” he said in a low, strained tone. “Stay ...” He broke off with another grunt. “Stay like that. God, Belle, you’re beautiful.”

“Are you touching yourself?” she asked, because sometimes he liked to do this. Faerie sex drives were very strong.

“No,” he gasped. “I just want you so damn much.”

He crowded toward her, over her, and she felt that his clothes were gone. His hard male body was as hot as an oven, the thick length of his erection settling along her buttocks’ crack. His hands slid sensually up her arms, fingers spearing between hers. He curled their hands into double fists, the strain his hold suggested inspiring.

He was panting, his long slightly hairy body rubbing up and down hers in little jerks. Maybe, like her, he couldn’t live without the friction. The heady scent of his faerie essence gathered around them. She’d noticed he only perspired when they were in the thick of sex, but he surely was sweating now.

Her pussy ached so badly from that she wasn’t certain she could stand it.

“Duvall,” she gasped, trying to spread her legs wider with his weight pinning her. The darkness she was caught in made everything feel more erotic. “Please don’t make me wait for this. I’m already on fire for you.”

She knew he felt her writhing under him on the bed, knew he’d sensed he was driving her insane. His fists gripped hers tighter, stretching her arms high above her head. Desire coiled inside her, her scent rising to join his.

Naturally, that affected Duvall too.

“God,” he groaned, his spine arching strongly as he writhed against her himself. Wanting to encourage this, Belle pressed her backside harder into him. His cock was a length of steel pressing it.

“Take me,” she urged. Her legs were open; he’d let her move that much. His knees came between them jerkily, spreading them even more. She thought she heard heavy cloth flap as he dragged his erection down her ass.

He was so excited it left a trail of wetness behind.

“Shit,” he said with uncustomary shakiness. “This isn’t going to be sweet.”

She didn’t care. She wanted him any way he wanted her. The air around them flashed as hot as if lightning had run through it. A second later, he pushed his crown tight against her gate. That was a tease at the door to heaven. Belle whimpered and strained wider.

“Unh,” Duvall said, working into her.

He was hot as fever, his thickness oiled by her longing. She arched, and he pushed again, gliding all the way in this time. Both of them moaned and wriggled at the paradise of that. Nothing felt like him throbbing inside her.

“God, Belle,” he said hoarsely beside her ear. “You’ve no idea how much I love having sex with you.”

She couldn’t keep up his bondage pretense then. She tugged their entwined hands closer to her body, close enough to kiss his knuckles. “I know,” she said throatily. “I love it just as much.”

He must have been waiting for the reassurance, and he hadn’t been kidding about needing this enough to burst. Her words were barely out and he was at her: pumping, grinding, swiveling his lovely hips with such strength and quickness that her nerves needed to race to catch up.

Fortunately, the position was good for both of them. Standing with both feet planted gave him plenty of leverage for pinpoint maneuvers. Under any conditions, faeries were skilled lovers, but these really let him shine. Belle groaned as his cream-slicked cockhead pummeled her best inner spots, shocks of sweet sensation jarring out from each hit. Her clit pulsated in sympathy, almost like it was being rubbed. To her delight, her moans of enjoyment hardened him even more.

“
Belle
,” he cried.

The tone he used was a warning she recognized.

He was close to coming, maybe too close to slow down for her. His pelvis snapped into her faster. Belle couldn’t move much, weighted down as she was, but she did her best to rock her hips more strongly into his thrusts. Choking out a sound of pleasure, he yanked one hand free of hers.

The pads of two fingers found her swollen button as unerringly as his cock arrowed over her G-spot. He rubbed her inside and out - focused, hard - little sparks seeming to shoot from all the tips he pressed against her.

Despite all this stimulation, he came before she could, harsh sounds kicking up from his chest as the ejaculation rushed out of him. The dramatic increase in wetness changed the feel of his thrusts. The speed of them as well. Duvall pumped into her so fast she knew he’d just gone into faerie overdrive.

That crashed her into climax, the burst of exquisite sensations robbing her of the power to do anything but gasp. Her body clutched helplessly at him, milking the sweetness for both of them. Duvall groaned and came a second time, which he tended to do when he’d gotten especially worked up.

As that second orgasm petered out, his deathgrip on her left hand and pussy eased. Still blind, Belle heard what she thought must be a stirring of the netted bed canopy.

“Don’t move,” he mumbled, his nose nuzzling the side of her neck. “Want to stay inside you a bit longer.”

Belle smiled against the super-soft coverlet. She liked cuddling after too. He was heavy now that he was relaxed, but something about his weight satisfied. She always felt safe with his body blanketing hers.

Duvall finally softened too much to keep his place in her.

“Here,” he said, rising on his elbows. “Let me get this blindfold off you.”

When he finished, she twisted around under him. The expression on his face was unexpectedly tentative, like he wasn’t certain he’d pleased her. That was endearing but unnecessary, so she hugged his hips with her legs.

“Good?” he asked, brushing her damp and disheveled hair from her face.

“Always. And ‘good’ hardly covers it, by the way.”

Normally, he’d have smiled. Tonight, his beautiful eyes searched hers, tiny golden sparks glimmering deep within his pupils. “You’re my heart, Belle. I never want to disappoint you.”

For no reason Belle could put her finger on, his words sounded like an apology.

Chapter Three

BELLE
and Duvall were so exhausted from the energetic finish to their day of traveling that they slept right through the first night’s parade. They woke up starving, but made love again anyway.

Actually,
making love
might not have been the right term. It was true they were face to face, generally a tender thing for them, but Duvall took her like they hadn’t had sex in months. His expression was somehow anxious as he thrust ever faster inside of her. Considering she came twice before he did, Belle couldn’t complain. She simply had to wonder what was up with him.

When he came, he gripped the fancy electrum headboard and tensed his whole body. Belle was pretty sure he enjoyed it; he shouted and shot a lot. The thing was, he tended to be more abandoned in his release. He’d thrown himself into this one as if racing to beat a deadline.

“You okay?” she asked as they shared a shower afterwards. She was soaping his back, which he usually reveled in like a cat. His wings had a sort of phantom reality outside Faerie, and he enjoyed having the place they’d lie caressed.

This morning, he turned around before she’d barely started massaging his gorgeous wet muscles.

“Are
you
okay?” he responded, smoothing back her damp hair. “I hope I wasn’t too rough on you.”

“You were good rough,” she assured him. “You just seemed to have something on your mind.”

He flashed his best sexy faerie smile. “You were on my mind, beloved. And my cock. And my fingers. I may, however, have overlooked the full uses of my mouth.”

Redressing this led to a slightly less manic quickie in the shower, after which they truly had to eat. Then, at Belle’s insistence, they left the hotel for sightseeing.

Located across the street, Resurrection’s version of Central Park was rendered doubly magical by a white layer of snow. As Belle admired its collection of naked nymph and satyr statues, she was distracted by Darius - who accompanied them on foot. Evidently, his bodyguard service included him carrying an electrified tennis racket to shoo away the park’s resident gnomes. Duvall promised the humanoid-looking pests weren’t any more intelligent than squirrels, but the demon’s unmistakable glee at lobbing them from their path did somewhat undercut her enjoyment of the trip.

She pushed aside her opinion of the gruesome display when they reached the park’s carousel. The carousel animals were all tigers, and they were popular. A snaking line of children waited for turns, bouncing excitedly at the ends of their parents’ arms. Belle noticed some of the kids were pretending to bark like dogs.

“They’re werepups,” Duvall told her, leaning close to her ear. “It’s tradition for the young ones to ‘ride the tigers’ this time of year. Werewolves and weretigers have a friendly rivalry.”

Darius snorted behind them, so Belle supposed the rivalry wasn’t always friendly. “They look like normal kids,” she said.

“They are,” Duvall assured her. “Well, very energetic normal kids. Wolf pups are a handful, I hear. Sadly, the moon isn’t full, and we won’t see any of them change accidentally.”

The parents might have disagreed, but Belle privately concurred that would have been entertaining. The werepup riders were fun to watch all the same, urging their tigers to go faster with convincing yips and howls.

Duvall had told her he’d set spells on himself not to get her pregnant until she decided she was ready. Despite not feeling ready yet, she experienced a vision of the two of them bringing their own children here. Though the image caused her to smile, she didn’t change her mind about waiting. She was sure half-faerie babies would be handfuls as well.

Their visit to the Pocket State Building continued the day’s upward trend, moodwise and literally. It was there, on the observation deck at the top, that Belle spied her first live gargoyle.

Colored like stone all over, the gargoyle had a salmon’s tail, a bear’s furry body, and a large eagle’s head. Batwings stretched from it as wide as a jet’s wingspan. Rising thermals allowed the creature to circle them lazily, or perhaps its flight depended only on magic. Each time it spiraled around the building, it came closer, as if it enjoyed entertaining the latest elevator-load of tourists. Finally, it flew close enough for Belle to see its great golden irises, the only part of it that wasn’t gray. Duvall stood very still beside her, as if this was a being he respected. Taking her cue from him, Belle kept her mouth shut and her eyes open.

She got the impression the gargoyle was considering not just her and Duvall, but her in particular. She wondered if her being an ordinary human held some interest for it.

At last, it landed on a corner platform, one that seemed specifically constructed to support its massive weight. It perched there, stone wings folded, gazing straight into Belle’s eyes. If she’d had any sort of psychic gift, she knew it would have been sending some message.

Hello
, she thought, clutching Duvall’s fingers tightly enough to hurt.
You are magnificent
.

The gargoyle shuffled its bear feet and winked at her.

“Mommy, mommy!” piped the pointy-eared elf boy in front of them. “The gargoyle winked at me!”

Belle felt momentarily stupid. Of course the gargoyle hadn’t winked at her. The little elf was adorable, and a magical being to boot. Probably
he’d
heard what the gargoyle was thinking.

Despite her disappointment, being that close to a flying creature the size of a city bus had been extremely cool. She didn’t even mind that Duvall bussed her cheek like he’d guessed her error and was feeling bad for her.

“Watch it, fang,” Darius the demon said to a tall pale man who’d accidentally jostled her. The man had a weeping burn mark on one lean cheek and eyes as blue as gas flames. He was probably magical too. He’d been standing behind her. For all she knew, the gargoyle had winked at
him
.

“Do you feel like lunch?” Duvall asked, drawing her attention back to him. “The Russian Tea Room serves blintzes and petit fours.”

They sampled both in a restaurant that was as marvelously over-decorated as a Faberge Easter egg. To Belle’s amusement, Duvall grew a little buzzed from the sugary sweets. He was relaxed then, swinging her hand and smiling as they walked - with Darius trailing - the few blocks back to the Grande Hotel. Her husband had been recognized by the Tea Room staff and consequently fawned over. He hadn’t done anything to encourage the kowtowing but did seem to take it as his due. Being treated like a prince relaxed him as much as the iced cakes had.

He’s missed this
, Belle thought, taking in the easiness of his stride. He’d never complained while he was in her world - not about doing dishes or being cut off from his power. Now she knew that had been an adjustment.

He’s whole here
, she realized.

She had to wonder what she ought to do with that knowledge.

~

Belle was quiet once they got back to the hotel room. They brushed their teeth and kicked off their shoes. Hoping to put his wife at her ease, Duvall performed both tasks without magic.

He sat on the bed while Belle finished unpacking her suitcases, a homey task he hadn’t seen performed except on TV. Hanging in the large closet were at least three dresses he didn’t recognize. They were pretty things: fancy like the negligee. He wondered which she’d chosen herself and which were her friend Susi’s idea. What had his beloved been anticipating when she daydreamed about this trip? On his part, he remembered hoping for a lot of sex and showing off for her a bit. Was she unhappy with how this was turning out?

“Belle,” he said, needing to see her face.

She turned to him from the closet’s built-in drawers. Her smile seemed relaxed, but he’d known her to fake such things. Sometimes Belle thought her emotions were weaknesses.

“About the gargoyle,” he said.

Belle pulled a crooked, self-deprecating face. “Don’t worry about that. I was embarrassed for a moment. It was cool to see it, no matter what.”

“It
could
have been winking at you. Gargoyles are ... enigmatic. They rarely communicate plainly - rarely speak aloud, to tell the truth. It might have found you interesting.”

“Because I’m an ordinary woman who’s hanging with a faerie.”

“Because you’re special. Gargoyles don’t simply see magic. They can read people’s souls. From the moment I met you, I knew there wasn’t anything ordinary about yours.”

Belle’s eyes glimmered with welling tears. “You,” she said, shaking her head as she came toward him with hands outstretched.

“Me?” he asked, putting his in them.

“You’re amazingly sweet. As sweet as those cakes you were buzzing on.”

“I ate too many.”

“I don’t mind seeing you mellow now and then. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself here.”

He was uncharacteristically afraid to ask if she was too. He squeezed the hands that were holding his. “Would you like to order room service for tonight? They can bring a private table to the terrace. Heaters too. We’d be sure not to miss the parade again.”

“I’d like that,” she said and bent down to kiss him.

Her silken hair whispered down around him. He couldn’t resist the impulse to lay his hands on her hips.

“Mm,” she said, kneading his shoulders. Her tongue flicked at his, inviting it to play. That alone increased the weight of his cock. The sweets had numbed him to a degree, but nothing in the world could numb him to Belle’s kiss.

Her fingers moved to his shirt buttons, popping them open one by one.

He decided he had a fetish for the feel of her doing that.

“Belle,” he said, his lashes fluttering up dizzily.

Her dark green gaze held all the mysteries women knew, whatever their race might be. Without even trying, the curve of her lips tightened his trousers. How could she not know she was special? Her fingers flicked the last button free and pulled his shirt tails out. She placed her palms on his knees.

Then she pushed them apart.

“Let me show you how sweet I think you are,” she said.

She used his knees as braces, dropping to her own on the lush carpet. Duvall’s breath came faster as she slid her hands up his belly and through his light chest hair. Belle liked caressing him, and it took a few sidetrips along his ribs and around his nipples to get where she was going. At last, she pushed his shirt over the balls of his shoulders, then freed the sleeves from his arms. When his top half was bare, she scratched the her fingernails lightly up and down his abs. Duvall’s head fell back with pleasure.

“I’m in charge,” she said. “You let me have my way with you.”

How could any man refuse her? She lowered her head and nuzzled his erection through his slacks, her face turning from side to side in a spine tingling caress. He let her undo his fastenings: the metal clips, the long teeth of the zipper. Down she drew the tab, careful of the flesh that pressed so eagerly against it.

“Lift,” she said, and he knew she meant his hips.

She drew the nice human trousers all the way off his legs.

Because he really didn’t have to, Duvall wore nothing under them.

Still kneeling, Belle looked at him. “I love seeing you like this. Up close. Aroused. It’s so personal.”

She slid her hands up the length of his legs - kind hands, with graceful fingers and warm palms. Reaching the top of his thighs, she pushed those hands in tandem up his cock, pressing its thickness against his belly, giving him a little thrill from the rub. Her thumb pads traced the full rivers of his veins. Then she tipped the shaft down until the head faced her.

He knew it did because her breath tickled it.

As a warm bead of fluid seeped from his slit, Duvall wasn’t certain he could stand what she was about to do. Since he also wasn’t sure he could live without it, he did nothing to stop her.

She licked him, a slow soft drag of her tongue over hot stretched skin. She swallowed the small taste of him.

“Faeries are lucky,” she said puckishly. “They taste so good they must get a lot of head.”

“No comment,” Duvall said breathily, sure this must be a trick question.

She laughed, her fingers moving up him lovingly. She didn’t keep him in suspense. Going directly to the act he craved, she pulled the cap of his penis between her lips. Sucking just that with her lips and tongue, she jacked his shaft slowly with one hand while the other cradled his testicles. She had no magic at her disposal; everything she did just naturally enchanted him. The wet flat of her tongue laved his glans without complications. Up and down it went, over and over, curling beneath the rim where his nerves were sharpest, strafing across the hole. She woke the sensitivity of his balls with a combination of jiggle and pressure. Her thumb chafed his sac while her fingertips smoothed behind it, drawing gentle stripes along his perineum. It was the simplest of touches, and it about killed him.

All the sensations she created added up.

“You can come,” she said between those devastatingly steady licks. “I like the taste of you in my mouth.”

His fists knotted in the coverlet, his back tingling dangerously. He’d thought if they had enough sex, he’d be able to suppress his wings’ inclination to manifest. That had worked for a bit, but the expiration date on that strategy seemed in sight.

“I want to,” he admitted to more than what she’d asked. “I love going when you suck me.”

He felt like he shouldn’t, like he should be giving
her
pleasure. Belle didn’t seem to care.

“Do it,” she said. “Let go any way you want.”

~

She loved making Duvall tremble. With all his experience, with all his magic, her sexual power over him was heady.

Her faerie husband loved the ecstasy she brought him.

Practically purring, she sucked another inch of him onto her tongue. The flesh that tipped his cock made a nice mouthful, but she was greedy. Sucking him deeper drew such wonderful moans from him. His knees pressed together around her shoulders, his quadriceps bunching with pleasurable strain.